Snakes
I've been bitten. My wife was bitten in my presence. A work-mate was bitten. The eldest son of the previous owner of my farm was bitten and died. I've seen a cow die from snake bite in only twenty minutes. The result of the autopsy from the death of a neighbor's horse was snake bite. To watch TV in the neighbor's house, the noise of all the snakes slithering in the ceiling is a distraction. The last time I walked the walking track circuit here I saw four snakes, same as the previous walk. I've stepped on snakes with bare feet, I had them slither over my foot, I've picked them up by mistake and I've had them fall on my head. I've even swam into one. I've seen one strike the window in the kitchen and the venom has run down the full length of the pane of glass, and I've seen my dog almost bitten, but not quite. A class mate of mine at school had seen so many of his dogs die from snake bite that he had a theory that a dog always gives three kicks before it dies.

While driving along in the car one day in the rain and eating a meat pie with my left hand, I peered through the windscreen wipers to see a snake appear from the car's grill. This thing poked up about a foot and was waving around in the wind and the rain. I couldn't believe what I was looking at. I thought that it must have been a piece of bark that was somehow become stuck there, but then it climbed onto the bonnet of the car and I could now see exactly what it was. The rain and the car's vibrations made it loose its "grip" and it flashed past my driver's side window. I got back to eating my meat pie thinking that that had never happened before.

I have the occasional visitor from an organization called Servas where overseas visitors experience what I call Australiana. They sometimes ask about snakes and if I tell them some of my stories, they wonder if they will last the distance. I say that if I have done so, so far, they shouldn't have any trouble.

What I've said is all true but it isn't really as bad as it may seem, but then again I haven't told all my stories either. The story about the visitor who found the snake in her bed I'll keep to myself.

The Path as the Venue for Art
Occasional I have a visitor who comes to experience my beautiful farm and to go for a walk on my walking track. Visitors enter by the large silver cast-iron front gate and a sign says a mysterious, "Normality Stops; Reality Begins." Further on up the driveway to the old Queensland style country house. Through another gate and the walking track begins.

It is the path that leads us from the comfort of our home into the dark and mysterious world of "The Jungle," and its still untamed and uncivilized ways. The path is smooth over rough places, the ribbon of comparative safety and security bringing the known into the unknown and bringing a touch of civilization into the uncivilized. From the path, we view into and over the wilds and feel that the unknown has been tamed. Art is the achievement of civilization but uncivilized nature draws us with the allure of its beauty. My path explores the tension between these two opposites.

We start with a swim in the creek to wash away our preconceived perceptions. This miraculous water hole is always full with water no matter how severe the drought and just up stream, the creek is always flowing. What a blessing!

Beside the creek is a tree with the initials CM, carved into it. Who did this and in what circumstances he wanted to be remembered by is now totally lost.

A little further on, we enter a man-made forest. It is more correct to say that this is one of the forests that I've planted and grown myself. This particular forest was made up with plants that were all rejects from the forestry nursery. The trees are all so straight and tall and all planted in ordered rows, well almost anyway. Turn left onto the narrow path and there on our left is a sight where reality needs suspending. A pine tree has done the impossible and instead of growing so straight and tall like all the others has by some freak of nature grown into a circle before continuing its upwards direction. This is not me and my silvan tricks but an act of mysterious untamed nature.

We now glance at a strategically placed rock and the question is posed, is it natural or has it been placed there by the hand of man and if so, for what reason? Is the motivation art or is it just a whim? Man has been placing rocks for thousands of years and I'm drawn to the pastime as well but I don't know why.

A small clearing is entered and here is a small and remote hut. Inside is a little mural painted by two hippie girls. One a business graduate from the United States with a professional background and a father employed on some secret mission in the Pentagon, and the other from New Zealand. Together they were travelling the great magical land of Oz doing spontaneous abstract murals as acts of goodwill. I never discovered how successfully the US girl returned to the grim reality of her business world. The sign says "The Edge of the Known World." The path is taking us beyond the known.

Next a fork in the path marked by a cairn, the ancient sign of human habitation. This should still be standing unless the cows have knocked it down since they hate all aspects of my landscape art. Take the right hand path.

If you look carefully at your feet, a little further on, there is a piece of bent and rusted barbed wire. Further to the right is even the well preserved remains of an old fence. This fence is symbolic of the changes that have occurred. One hundred years ago this was untouched rainforest. It was cleared and burnt and turned into bananas and pasture for cattle and a fence was build with confidence for the future. Now this phase seems almost impossible to perceive as the jungle advances slowly and relentlessly and civilization is in retreat. This is an example of Australian gothic in the landscape. A now mysterious ruin of a lost or declining civilization and a way of life now almost totally lost.

The next intersection has a track to the left going to a giant and ancient tree, a cave big enough to camp in, a dark and deep bat cave, and then the path follows a tunnel of walking height; but we are to complete the circuit and to go straight ahead to the shrine. A seat is on our left to rest to take in the significance of the site. The shrine was made when a cow bone was discovered while planting these pine trees years ago. Since then there have been various donations such as a sea shell, a broken brick, a jewel, a twisted piece of wood, an old and decayed bronze vase and other quirky additions. Visitors are invited to mount the dais, sound the gong, a fortuitously found hub cap, and to give a spontaneous talk on what ever subject is upper most in their minds. For example, to quote a visitor, "I used to walk up to your big silver front gate and think that what ever was beyond it was a mystery, now that I've had a look, I now know that the mystery is even greater!" Yes I like the thought.

Visitors are invited to collect a piece of broken pottery and to take it with them and to add it to the walking track where ever it seems appropriate. When we walk the path, we wear it down fractionally and it is beneficial to make a little reparation. These discarded pieces of pottery which were once useful, broken into uselessness and now have become useful again. To walk the path and to be momentarily caught by surprise by a glint of broken pottery may just allow us in the instant to see things differently.

Further into the jungle and another seat. Here a drink is offered with a natural chalice from the clear water of a spring in the creek. More broken pottery from times past. Another cairn is slowly rising as suitable rocks are found and added.

The path now turns to the right and gradually climbs the hill side. A look out rock is reached with a view over the valley below. In a crevice on the rock cliff behind the lookout is another cow bone. This bone has the word "GOMPA" painted on to it. This bone was found when I planted the Gympie Messmate tree beside the lookout. Bear a moment's thought to the days when one hundred cows lived here and they needed to graze so high up on this rugged hill side for grass. Circumstances changed. The word gompa is a shrine dedicated to the Buddha. This was painted by a Japanese lady who visited here a year ago. She was of Shinto background, but had studied in India for a year. For her, beauty was found at every turn of the path and every twist of a leaf. At suitable places, as reverence to nature, she painted a Japanese character in water colour paints on leaves, rocks and stems. Upon seeing the cow bone, she prostrated herself in deference to the lost life. On it she paints the word, gompa. In front of the bone, on the rock she paints the English word, "RESPECT" I suppose in an attempt to redeem the situation. Never has my walking track been so greatly appreciated!

A little further on are some fig trees growing over rocks. The same species that are growing over the temples at Angkor Wat. A closely related species to the tree under which the Buddha received enlightenment. Just beyond is a human face in the cliff. The face looks rather severe as it looks down on my farm below. On each cheek is painted a Japanese character. One is now almost invisible due to the ravages of time and the meaning is now lost, the other is a word that may be translated as respect.

Past some overhanging rocks and a ledge with a few offerings and another character appears. This can still be understood and just recently I was told that it says "thank you." I appreciate the thought. Now to a large seat made from the wood from a giant tree. This tree was so large that the saw that cut it down had only an inch on either side to work with. The process was very slow and difficult, as the story was told to me by the old man who cut it down in his youth. Eventually the tree was felled and speared down below. We can't help but dwell on human folly. The effort to cut the ancient forest, the effort to grow bananas on the steep slope, the effort to keep it free of weeds for grazing cattle, the lost battle due to the persistence of the invading weeds, the supreme battle to attack the weeds and plant a new forest and the effort to keep the weeds in check until the trees can stand alone. We sit on the seat and ponder!

Across a plank and over a semi permanent spring high up on a hill side. A marvel!

Further on we come to another seat. Looking up and tied into the fork of a shrub, we can see a rock in the shape of a severed head. This is an example of suiseki, a Japanese word meaning something found in nature that represents something else. Visitors are invited to take a piece of chalk and enhance the features to perhaps make it clearer as to who is found here. In the middle ages, severed heads were placed on stakes for their shock value and to help maintain law and order. I have not come to a conclusion as to the purpose of this severed head. He now has a chip from his nose from when the cows knocked him down the hill while in a different location. It was quite a struggle to find him in all the lantana and to carry him back up the hillside. Any ideas as to who it is and what I should do with him?

Keep walking on, through the eucalyptus forest, onto the slashed track, straight on and in to the rainforest with another large tree. Another seat gives a view to the house below and from another lookout, the scale of the planted forests can be seen.

Into now another and older plantation. Here there are now no rows. The trees were initially planted in rows but many died of drought and replanted time and again until the rows are now lost and it looks as if the trees were sown by natural broadcasting.

Just off the track, and down into the rainforest is a special and mysterious tree. This very ancient tree I guess to be over a thousand years old. It has the name of Lignum Vitae, a Latin word which means in English, tree of life. If you look closely, you can just see grooves cut into the tree. These are spaced and positioned as if they were aboriginal toe holds used for climbing. This is contentious but it is what I think.

Us the civilized, as we like to think of ourselves, are now face-to-face with the long lost natural world. Are we civilized or is it just a veneer we put on for convenience. Us the civilized, could we live in the wild or climb this tree? I doubt it. Which is greater, us and our civilization or the natural world that supports us? How do us the civilized reunite ourselves with the sustaining wild and untamed natural world? Can making paths become as popular as gardening and landscaping?

Down the hill across a ruined bridge, and on to the house. The circumambulation is now completed.

Can I finish with the word, wabisabi. The profound in the ordinary.

Questions?
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